


Maybe Pirates Aren't So Savage After All

by LukaTheSelkie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:55:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LukaTheSelkie/pseuds/LukaTheSelkie
Summary: A sort-of Pirate AU? It takes place in the time England was a pirate captain. Sweden decides to become one of his crew members (in disguise so he's not recognized) after Finland—rather hatefully—ends things, and practically turns his family against him with a lie. Sweden SLOWLY gets over the pain this caused, and realizes maybe there's someone better for him. Someone who might be a savage pirate thief, but has a kind heart. That someone is, of course, Arthur Kirkland.





	1. Heartbreak And Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> It should be noted there is a headcanon about Sweden's accent/speech in this. "Sweden's mumbling speech isn't because of his accent. It's because during the Kalmar Union, the night he and Finland fled, Denmark hit him hard enough to damage the speech centre of his brain. Only recently has he started the process of forgiving Denmark for stealing his words from him."

Sweden stares at the pirate ship, unsure how to feel. This will be his home for who knows how long, and that makes him slightly hesitant. He shakes his head and boards, silencing his doubts. He’s a Viking! Well, was a Viking, but he still has some of the traits of a Viking. Like diving headlong into things, especially when they make him nervous. He takes a deep breath once on the ship, and glances around quickly. Other crew members are bustling about, either working or greeting the new arrivals. No one approaches Sweden, but he was expecting that. It looks like he’ll be too busy to think about Finland and the breakup, which is good. That’s the whole reason he decided to do this in the first place.  
Finland suddenly yelling at him that he is not Sweden’s wife, nor will he ever be, and that he never consented to a relationship with him in the first place had stung. It had stung so much that Sweden had started crying the moment the angry country left his sight. And he really hadn’t stopped crying until that day. But he remembered England’s pirate ship was rumored to be coming ashore for new crew members, and without thinking too much about it, he had made arrangements to get on said ship. He toys with the edge of his cloak, where it’s fraying slightly, and sighs. He wonders if he’s going to regret doing this, or if it will help him get over Finland. He hopes he can get over the pain, but he’s not too sure it’s possible. “Oi! New crew, line up! You’re getting assignments now! Old crew, continue on with your work! I can handle them by myself.” The people on the ship start moving in different directions at the demanding voice. Most of them get back to work, but some start to form a line. Sweden joins the smaller group, amused. He had no idea England could be so ruthless.  
“What do you think you’re doing, wearing that?” England motions at the cloak wrapped around Sweden’s shoulders. It’s a deep blue, like his shirt, and lined with fur. He pulls it tighter around himself, protective of the item, since it’s a relic of his Viking days.  
“Keeps me warm. there’s nothing wrong with me wearin’ it.” Sweden replies quietly, his cheeks tinting pink at the sudden barrage of attention from everyone on the ship. However, he is proud of himself for being able to enunciate his words properly. He can’t let England know it’s him. He had new glasses made as well, so he’s not as easily recognizable.  
“Nothing wrong with you wearing it?” England smirks, and steps closer. He reaches out and grabs ahold of the clasp at Sweden’s throat. “I’m the only one allowed an overcoat. This is getting confiscated.” With a flourish and the slightest of touches to his neck, Sweden’s cloak is whisked away to be bundled up in England’s arms. “Anyone else want to stand up to me?” When only silence fills the air, he nods. “Good! You,” he points a demanding finger at Berwald. “Since you think it’s so wonderful to question your captain, you will be my personal cabin boy. Can’t have you getting any other ideas. And this,” he holds up the cloak. “Is going somewhere you can’t get to. I have a feeling you’re going to cause trouble trying to get it back. I’m warning you now; don’t even try.” The Scandinavian grabs for it in a blind panic, but his fingers only close on air. England grabs his wrist tightly and narrows his eyes. “I told you not to try to get it back. Listen to me, or I am throwing it in the ocean.”  
“You cannot do that! It is important to me! Give it back!” Despite his panic, he somehow still manages to keep his words clear. His head hurts now from the amount of oxygen he used, but he pushes it aside for the moment.  
“If it’s so important, then you will do as I say!” England tugs on his wrist, pulling him closer even though Berwald is bigger. He lowers his voice into a hiss. “You are already on thin ice. Do not give me a true reason to make you walk the plank. I will revel in watching you slowly tire out, and eventually drown. You are not to speak unless spoken to, and only if I give you permission. Understood?” Sweden feels a shudder travel down his spine, and he finds himself nodding. “Good cabin boy. You followed the rules perfectly.” England shoves him away harshly. “Take him to my room! I’ll deal with him when I’m done assigning tasks to the others.” He is ushered away quickly.  
Sweden finds himself in a lavish room, decorated with guns and swords on the walls. The bed is entirely too big for a single person, and half of it is covered in pillows. Hesitantly he reaches out and pokes one, then grunts in surprise at how soft it is. He lays his hand on the bed, which proves his suspicions of it being even softer correct. There’s a quiet chuckle behind him, and he spins around to see England, cloak folded neatly in his arms. “Not only are you defiant, but you’re curious too. I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.” He places the cloak on a dresser and steps closer, squaring up his shoulders. “You might be larger than I am, but remember I am your captain. Whatever I say goes, no questions allowed. Oh, and these are mine while you’re not working.” He plucks the glasses off of Sweden’s face, causing him to squint involuntarily. England smirks. “That blind? This should be entertaining. I had intended for it to keep you close, least I need you, but you look like you can’t even walk without assistance. You’ll have to stay close!”  
“Jag can walk without assistance,” Berwald grumbles, hurting his head more by focusing on his word pronunciation. He flinches back in shock when he feels a sharp pain in his left side. Did England just pull his sword and slash him!? Albeit not deep, but damn!  
“I told you not to speak without permission. Be glad I like you, otherwise that would have been much deeper. Though I do suppose I learned something about you when you spoke. You are Nordic. Perhaps of Viking descent, and that’s why this cloak is so important to you. It was handed down to you. Don’t bother saying anything, I know I am correct.” Mostly correct, Sweden thinks. He was the Viking, but at least he knows his appearance alterations are enough to fool England up close. “Anyway, if you think you can walk without these on, then try it. You may not grab hold of anything if you find you cannot. Fall. In. The. Floor.” Berwald resists the very strong urge to roll his eyes, and squints them instead. He can sort of see the door, so he starts walking toward it. He manages a pretty straight line, and turns to smirk triumphantly at the captain. He is caught off guard when he receives a smirk back. “Go on, then. If you can really see that well, open it.” Shit. He turns back to the door and squints harder, but the doorknob does not become visible. He reaches for about where he thinks it should be and awkwardly feels around for it, his cheeks heating up more and more with each passing second. At least a minute passes before he’s sure he’s checked everywhere it could be, and he throws his hands up in defeat. The stupid thing disappeared into thin air! England steps closer, looking amused, and reaches around Sweden to crack the door open. He frowns deeply and huffs. “I could lock you in a room just by closing the door and taking your glasses with me. I won’t, but I could. I will say that was rather amusing though.”  
Sweden growls in the back of his throat and snaps his teeth warningly at England. The pirate captain raises his brows, then shakes his head. “You keep giving me more reasons to have you walk the plank. And yet, I find you intriguing. Here, have them back. I have an order for you.” He places the glasses in Berwald’s hand, and he slips them back on. “Go to the kitchens and ask them to prepare my tea.” He pauses. “Make sure to mention they make enough for two. You will be joining me. If you’re a good cabin boy, I might let you stay here tonight. I like that idea. If you do well throughout the day, you will be rewarded with sleeping on the couch. If you do not do as I say, or you talk back, have an attitude, anything like that, I will send you to sleep with the others. The couch is nearly as nice as the bed, so I believe that is more than enough reward for you. Now go, before I change my mind about you joining me.” He waves his hand dismissively, and Sweden turns on his heel, pushing the door open all the way and walking out. He takes a few deep breaths to even out his anger. England is the captain. He can do as he wishes. That includes order him around, no matter how unused to it he is. At least his mind hasn’t strayed to Finland. Until now, that is.

When he gets back, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits on it, England is sitting at a table in the corner he hadn’t noticed before. He places the tray on the surface gently, then bows his head respectfully. The captain snorts. “You really are amusing! Disrespectful and feisty one moment, and polite and quiet the next. Come, sit. You may speak openly with me until we have finished here.” The stoic nation nods once, and does as he is told. He sits stiffly, and finds himself pouring tea for the captain to keep himself busy. England looks between him and the cup, then shakes his head. “So you met the cook, I see. She’s a fiery one.” Sweden shakes his head. “No? You’re acting differently, so something must have happened. If it wasn’t meeting her, though, I have no idea what could change your actions this much.”  
“It is nothing important. M’ mind strayed a bit is all.” Sweden flinches ever so slightly, upset with himself for letting a word slip away from his careful enunciations. A single word isn’t going to give him away though, right? He’s worrying over nothing. England’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, but there’s no recognition behind them.  
“What did it stray to that made you so solemn?” When there’s no answer, he sighs. “Okay. I understand. Sometimes things can be hard. I will offer an ear when you have no duties if you ever wish to speak about it.” Sweden glares hard at him.  
“Jag do not need to. Och even if Jag did, why would I speak to du? Jag would go to someone Jag know, och someone on m’ side.” He slumps in the chair suddenly, and covers his face. No one is on his side. Not even Denmark, who promised to always be there when Sweden needs him, especially after what he did. He brings his other hand up to the side of his head. The external injury healed a long time ago, but the internal damage is still there. It will always be there. He’s mostly forgiven Denmark for it, though it’s still hard sometimes, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive Finland now. Finland got out that night without a single scratch on him. Sweden had been so happy for that, even after learning his speech is impedimented forever. It gives him strong headaches to try and speak properly, and he can never do it for very long. He clinches his jaw. Finland, who got out without any injuries because Sweden loved him. Finland, who said all those hurtful things a few days ago. Finland, who has the other Nordics convinced Sweden had him under the influence of captivity until he said those things. Finland, who Sweden is still very much in love with, and completely destroyed over. His shoulders start to shake, and he rushes to stand. He has to leave before he breaks down again!  
England grabs his arm forcefully, pulling him out of his head. He’s saying something, and probably has been, but Sweden can’t focus. He needs out! He yanks his arm away and practically runs for the door. To his surprise, he winds up on the floor, the air knocked out of him. He tries to stand again, but his feet won’t separate. It takes England tugging him closer from above to realize the pirate must have lassoed him. He blinks rapidly, clearing away his unshed tears quickly. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!? You can’t just shut down, and expect someone not to worry! Especially when you come back and start running! What the fook is wrong!? Tell me! That’s an order.” Sweden takes a deep, shaky breath, and prepares himself for an incredibly painful headache.  
“Jag love someone. They… Recently told me they never loved me, despite being together for a long time. They have convinced everyone in m’ family Jag held them captive och inadvertently made them love me. They said they were a victim of false feelings. Jag would never!” His shoulders start to shake again. He closes his eyes tightly so he doesn’t cry in front of England. He’s seen the effects of that up close. It’s a horrible thing he hates the existence of. The other Nordics know that! Why do they believe Finland!? England clicks his tongue. “Open your eyes.” Sweden reluctantly opens them, upset with himself for showing so much emotion. England pulls him into a sitting position and kneels in front of him. “Now it makes more sense why you’re here and so defiant. No one here knows, so they can’t have an opinion on the matter. You were also hoping to be too busy with work to think about this, correct?” He nods ever so slightly in answer. “But sending you off to work had the opposite effect.” He stands with a grunt, and stretches himself out a bit. “Rest for today. I aim to keep my crew happy. I will think of something to do just that by tomorrow. You won’t be getting out of it, so don’t anger me by trying to. You can untie yourself, I assume? The couch is yours.” He motions toward it dismissively, then leaves the room. Sweden lets out a heavy sigh, undoes the knot around his ankles, and makes his way over to the couch. He sinks into the cushions and closes his eyes tightly. His head really hurts! After a moment, his eyes snap open, a thought in his head. They fall on his cloak, still where England placed it on the dresser. He shrugs, walks over to it, and wraps it back around his shoulders. Even if it angers England, he needs the comfort of a time where he was stronger. Both emotionally and physically.


	2. Baking And Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal head canon in this chapter. "Sweden CANNOT cook, unless it's pastries."

Sweden opens his eyes with a grunt, angry at the sun shining in them. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair, making it more messy than it already is. He reaches blindly for his glasses on his bedside table before hearing a chuckle that makes him freeze. “You are a rather heavy sleeper.” Oh right. He’s not at home, nor is he in a private room. “You didn’t even move a muscle when I took your glasses off. Maybe next time you don’t fall asleep with them on? Oh, and I’m taking this back.” He unfastens the clasp of Sweden’s cloak and folds it back up. “I’m still the only one allowed an overcoat. Nice try though. You can have it back tonight. I will allow that. You may sleep with it.” Sweden nods slightly, and England places his glasses in his hand. “Go fetch my breakfast and morning tea. Then you are dismissed to eat your own breakfast. You can either eat with the others or get something quick in the kitchen, I don’t mind which. Just be back within an hour of bringing my food here.” Berwald slips his glasses on, and stands quietly. He stretches as he walks out the door.

He places the tray of tea and food on the table in England’s room, feeling the captain’s eyes on him. “I do believe you are the fastest cabin boy I have had. Your legs are rather long. It is intriguing to watch you travel. Your stride is stunning.” Sweden’s cheeks tint pink, but he stays silent. “I see that blush. Did I embarrass you? Interesting.” He grunts, and shakes his head. England chuckles. “I think I did. There’s no use denying it. I’ll just embarrass you more.” He walks up behind Berwald, and reaches around him to grab the tea. He turns around to face the pirate. “Hullo.” He smirks and sips at the tea, watching his cabin boy’s blush darken. “I might make a habit of this if you continue to make this so easy for me. You’re entertaining. I enjoy making you blush.” He pulls away, and sits in the chair. “You may go now. I’ve had my fun for the morning. Find yourself something to eat. Unless you would like me to feed you?” He smirks teasingly, and Sweden whirls around to hide his crimson face. He takes large steps toward the door and is out in a matter of seconds, England’s laughter ringing out behind him.  
Sweden finds himself in the kitchen, practically taking over. He assumes everyone is too afraid of him to ask him to stop, but that doesn’t really matter. He needs coffee and a cinnamon bun. A full Fika would be ideal, but he doesn’t have any friends on the ship to share the break with. He sighs heavily once the buns are cooking, and leans against the wall. Now to wait. He glances around, and smiles ever so slightly at the sight of coffee beans. He puts some water over the fire to heat up, and gets to work grinding the beans. He gets a few odd looks, but no one dares speak to him. Once his coffee is brewed, he starts making icing while waiting for it to cool off a bit. Once that’s done, he sips at the cup, staring at the baking pastries. The moment they are finished, he pulls them out and rushes to drizzle the icing over them. At this point, he has a small crowd of kitchen workers around him, watching in amazement. He scoops them onto a plate, grabs one for himself, finishes off his coffee, and leaves the room without ever saying a word. His feat reaches England before he does.  
“Here comes the little cook. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? If I had known you could make food, I would have asked for you to make my breakfast.” Sweden raises a brow and shakes his head.  
“Du would not want that. Jag can only make pastries well. Jag am not allowed in the kitchen at home from nearly burning down the house making toast.” The captain’s face morphs into one of confusion. Sweden takes the moment to place the cinnamon buns on his table and rub at the side of his head. He really needs to find a better means of communicating without giving himself away. One that doesn’t hurt as much as speaking properly.  
“...Toast…? How does one mess toast up enough to nearly burn down a house?” Sweden chuckles deeply.  
“Do not ask.” England shakes his head, obviously perplexed.  
“I don’t think I want to know. Anyway, I trust you are reporting back for duty? Your hour is nearly up.” Berwald responds with a curt nod and bites into another cinnamon bun. England laughs softly. “And here I thought you had brought me some.” Sweden rolls his eyes and holds the plate out to him. “That was a joke, but thank you.” He smiles and takes one, biting into it gingerly. He closes his eyes and groans. The noise makes the Nordic flush. “It’s good! Now I’m even more perplexed that toast is an issue. How? Actually no, I still don’t want to know. Never mind that question. At least your pastries are wonderful. That’s better than not being able to cook anything.” Sweden has to hold his tongue to refrain from mentioning that England’s cooking isn’t notorious for being tasty, since that would give his identity away.  
“Speaking of food, I came up with an activity to help get you over this ex of yours. It was already scheduled so don’t flatter yourself too much. However, your role will change for the night from what I originally intended for it to be. We’re docking in France and attending a party. The host invited myself and the crew, so unfortunately we have to be civil. I won’t tell anyone if a bit of mischief is caused though. It’s healthy!” He laughs, and Sweden frowns ever so slightly. Being around people is not what he would call fun or distracting. He suspects he’s going to see couples forming at this party, which will only upset him more. At least he can melt into the background and disappear for awhile. Perhaps he will find an actual way to keep his mind from straying to Finland.  
“You are to be on your best behaviour. I was going to have you continue being my cabin boy throughout the night, but you need some fun. Loosen up a bit. Once we are inside, you will be dismissed to do as you please.” He pauses, and looks the larger male over. “Oh my. That outfit won’t do! None of these heathens have outfits that will do. Everyone has to look civilized! Find something fitting to wear while I deal with the others.” He rushes out of the room, leaving Berwald alone. He glances at the dresser, where his cloak lay again. With a sigh, he changes into a white dress shirt, black breeches, and a pair of short black lace up boots from his time as a Viking. He likes them better than the tall, slip on pirate boots, but he has to stay in character on the ship. Maybe the party will give him a bit more freedom to be himself. He drapes the cloak over his shoulders and fastens it, then fixes his hair in the mirror. That took less time than he thought it would. What’s he supposed to do now?

“Well, don’t you clean up nicely. Good. Maybe you will catch someone’s eye tonight. If you do, they should be able to take your mind off this mystery lover.” England winks, causing Sweden’s cheeks to tint pink. The captain laughs heartily. “You are too easy to embarrass! It’s a charming trait that should make anyone flirting with you more curious about you. Now, follow me. I have to inform the host we are here, and having my cabin boy by my side is good for my image.” They walk through the crowd of party goers for a few moments. They come to a group of beautiful men joking around, each holding a wine glass in his hand. “Francis!” One looks up, and smiles broadly when he sees England. France is the host of this party!? He honestly should have seen that coming.  
“Arthur! So nice of you to join us tonight! I hope you and your crew enjoy yourselves.” He smiles flawlessly. Sweden shrinks back involuntarily; spotlight people always unnerve him. His movement seems to catch France’s eye, as he turns his gaze to him. He licks his lips, and his smile broadens. “Hello there, mon cheri. My deepest apologies for not noticing you sooner! Your captain had most of my attention. It is rather rude to look around when speaking with someone. Arthur, why didn’t you tell me you had such a beauty in your crew?” Sweden can feel the heat travel through his cheeks and up to his ears, but he keeps a straight face. England chuckles and pulls him to stand beside him, instead of slightly behind.  
“My apologies, Francis.” He bows his head. “He only just joined. He has caused a bit of trouble, so I made him my personal cabin boy to keep a better eye on him. However, he needs to take his mind off of some things, so he has free reign tonight.” France nods curtly, his eyes roaming over Sweden hungrily.  
“I’m sure he will have a wonderful time! The party should be able to take his mind off whatever is bothering him rather easily. Do tell me if I can do anything for you, beautiful.”  
“Thank you for inviting us. I believe I have taken up enough of your time tonight. Come find me if you need anything.” England smiles politely, and disappears into the crowd. Sweden tries mentally calling out for him to come the fuck back, but it doesn’t work. He jumps when an arm slithers around his waist.  
“Did I startle you? Please, do forgive me.” France looks up at him, his eyes filled with lust. This causes his blush to come back stronger. “You really are beautiful. Would you grant me the knowledge of your name?” He doesn’t know if he should be thankful or regretful that his disguise is enough to fool France as well. Does changing his glasses make him look that different?  
“It is Berwald,” he grunts out, barely a whisper. France smiles, and kisses the back of his hand.  
“Well, Berwald, how would you like to join me in a more private place? I don’t mind being a distraction from whatever is bothering you. In fact, it would be my honour. After all, I can’t let any of my guests go unhappy tonight. Even if you take… special treatment.” Sweden takes a shaky breath, and slips out of his grasp. He pouts, but doesn’t try to touch him again. Seeing that pout brings back a flood of memories. Finland always got what he wanted, simply by sticking his bottom lip out and letting it tremble. Finland, who hurt and betrayed him. His heart squeezes tightly in his chest. Maybe accepting France’s invitation will make it hurt less? He puts on a tiny, polite smile, no matter how awkward it feels.  
“Tack. Jag will think about your offer. For now, I desire to explore a bit. I have never been to such a lavish party before.” France smiles again, and reaches out to press a hand to Sweden’s chest. His heart thumps involuntarily, and he leans into the touch. He’s not used to affection, especially physical. The shorter chuckles.  
“If you find you do desire my company, I will meet you by the front entrance in an hour. If you aren’t there within fifteen minutes, I will find someone else to keep me company. I am very desirable, after all. If you weren’t so lovely, your time to explore would be much shorter.” He runs his hand up Sweden’s chest, causing his body to tingle, and rests it on his cheek. He runs his thumb over his bottom lip teasingly. Once his face is completely red, France stands on his tip toes and gives him a soft, sweet kiss on the mouth. “Remember that in an hour. There’s plenty more. I can even do different types. I am a Frenchman, after all.” He pulls away and blows Sweden a kiss before disappearing. Did France just successfully seduce him?  
He shakes his head hard, and wonders through the crowd. It isn’t long before he spots England, drinking like his life depends on it. “Cabin boy! C’mere! You’re not with Francis? I thought for sure he would keep you company. No matter! Would you like to participate in a competition? Dance with me! Fight for the lead! I’m going to enjoy crushing you.” Why the hell not? Sweden holds a hand out for England, who takes it roughly.  
“Du are drunk.”  
“And? I can still kick your ass! I’m going to dominate this dance so hard. I’ll even let you start.” Sweden chuckles, and promptly launches into a sweeping ballroom dance, leading the very drunk England for all of three seconds. He’s caught off guard that he was able to take control so quickly. “You look confused! You should see your face!” He leans in closer, and lowers his voice. “I own you. You are mine. You will submit to me. Even in something as simple as dancing.” Sweden growls and takes back the lead.  
“Du should really reconsider that statement. Jag cannot be controlled. Jag am a mighty lion!” He tosses his head proudly, a dumb idea considering it already hurts from his trying to speak normally, which gives England enough leeway to take the lead again.  
“A lion hmm? More like a lioness. Again, I own you.” Sweden huffs, and takes the lead again.  
“Du wish. Nej one can control the mighty Swe-me.” He bites his lip, hoping England didn’t notice the slip up. He’s too drunk and too focused on winning to notice, thankfully. His concern about accidentally revealing his identity doesn’t do any favours for him though. He finds himself being led just as the song ends.  
“Ha! I won! I knew I would.” England closes his eyes tightly and makes a face. “I feel sick. Help me sit. You’ll get your punishment in the morning. Oh, didn’t I mention the winner gets to choose the loser’s punishment? No? Oh well! You’ve already lost, and I have the perfect idea for your little gift~!” Sweden internally groans. Great! A drunk England coming up with a punishment gift is exactly what he needs!  
The strike of the hour is enough to pull him out of his misery. France. He finds himself looking toward the entrance, and, sure enough, he’s waiting there. Before he can talk himself out of it, Sweden is walking briskly toward him. What a horrible night so far! Reminded of Finland, made to realize just how touch starved he is, and losing to a drunk bastard! “Ah! Berwald! I was hoping to see you again. I knew I was irresistible!” He grabs France by the collar and kisses him deeply. His anger melts away slowly, and he finds himself coming to enjoy it. He pulls away to breathe heavily. He rests his forehead on France’s when he’s caught his breath. “That was rather unexpected, I’ll admit. But don’t be angry. I’ll make you feel better.” He wraps his arms around Sweden’s neck and pulls him back into a kiss. It isn’t long before their tongues mingle, and he finds himself being directed toward a door he hadn’t noticed before. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft reminder this IS a Sweden x England fic. I feel like Sve is justified in wanting to feel loved though, even if it's just for a single night and he knows it's not so much love as it is lust.


	3. Gifts And Panic

    “Sweden, wake up. Your ship is leaving soon.” The Scandinavian grunts and opens his eyes. He pushes France’s hand away gently, effectively getting him to stop shaking him. It takes a moment for what he said to register.  
    “Du knew?” France smiles and kisses his forehead.  
    “Well, I didn’t know for sure until we were alone. But yes, I did have my suspicions. Arthur hasn’t heard any news because he’s been on the sea, but your argument with Finland preceded you. As did your disappearance. Hearing such a similar story, and seeing your hair and eyes, then your name… I thought it might be you. Your normal speech threw me off though. How are you doing that? No matter. When it dropped to what you’re used to while we were having our fun, I figured out it really was you. I hope I gave you a good time. Were you able to take your mind off of him? I know you loved him dearly, and I’m sure it still stings.” Sweden’s bottom lip trembles, and France pulls him close. “Shh, shh. Don’t cry, beau. What he did was wrong. I don’t believe any of what he’s trying to convince everyone happened. I know Stockholm Syndrome hurts you. You would never do that to anyone.”  
    “J-ja. Jag would n’ver.” He sniffs, and France squeezes him tighter. “Tack.” He sighs softly, and cuddles into Francis. “F’r this och last n’ght. Du did k’p me from th’nking about h’m. Och it w’s nice. Jag have n’t done that in awh’le. Jag was a b’t touch starved.” Francis nods softly, and kisses the tip of his nose.  
    “You’re always welcome to come back. I’ll be here when you need to feel loved. In any way, not just through sex. Everyone deserves love.” He smiles sweetly. “Now go, before Arthur comes searching for you. I won’t tell him it’s you, and I’ll make sure no one informs him of what happened with Finland while he is ashore. You have your reasons for staying anonymous, I’m sure. I won’t ask what they are, but I will support them.”  
    “Tack. Again.” France laughs quietly.  
    “You’re welcome. Now get dressed and go. I wasn’t kidding when I said he would come searching for you. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but he’s more demanding when in captain mode.” Sweden chuckles.  
    “Ja! He k’ps taking m’ cloak. Says he’s the ‘nly one allowed an ov’rcoat. He is also b’ing bossy. Though Jag s’ppose he has t’ be, t’ run a ship w’th a crew th’t large.”  
    “Oui. Though I can understand how that would get bothersome, especially considering your position. His own personal Cabin Boy, hmm? You get to deal with all of his complaining, which I’m sure there’s a lot of. He’s not made you cook, has he? Sometimes really disrespectful crew members get sent to the kitchens without training, and left to do everything in there for the day without any help.”  
    “Nej. Jag h’ve not been th’t disrespectful. Y’t.”  
    “You think you might?”  
    “W’ll, before we m’t up last night,” his cheeks turn crimson at the memory. France laughs and pecks his lips.  
    “Go on, beau. You were wonderful, by the way. I hope you can walk though. I was pretty rough.”  
    “J-Ja, Jag sho’ld be able t’. Tack for t’pping. Jag… needed t’ feel loved.”  
    “I understand completely. Sometimes being the top feels like you’re giving all of the love, and not receiving any. I have a feeling you’ve been doing that a lot lately.”  
    “Ja,” he responds softly, then looks away. Finland.  
    “As you were saying?”  
    “Oh ja!” Sweden is thankful for the subject change. “Engl’nd challenged me t’ a dance. Whoever w’s leading when the s’ng finished was the w’nner. Jag lost bec’use Jag got… d’stracted. Jag almost revealed m’self, but he w’s too drunk and f’cused to notice. At the end, he sa’d the winner g’t to pick the l’ser’s punishment. Unfair, but th’t’s not the point. He sa’d he knew j’st what to get me. Jag m’ght be very disresp’tful when he gives it t’ me.”  
    “Ah, I see. Arthur being Arthur. And you said he was drunk? That’s going to be an interesting gift. I hope he takes kindly to your reaction. I’m afraid that is all I can do to help, beau.” France smiles apologetically. “Perhaps he will have noticed your disappearance last night. He seemed pretty eager to leave us alone. That makes me think he wanted me to distract you from the pain of your… loss. If he noticed your disappearance, he might be more gentle when you react because you did what he was hoping you would do. He can be cruel, but he does care. Very much. That is all I can offer you.” He pauses. “Oh! Wait!” He stands from the bed, and Sweden forces himself to look away. France is beautiful inside and out, that he’s sure of. He looks up when he feels a hand brush his hair, and his cheeks tint pink when he realizes France is putting a flower in his hair. “There. A Dandelion. It means ‘overcoming hardship.’ I hope it can help you. You deserve to get over this heartbreak. Maybe you can find someone new when you do. I will hope for the best, beau. Au revoir. Go now.” Sweden quietly does as he is told, too shocked to speak.

    “Our final straggler!” England chuckles when he sees Sweden. “I see Francis treated you well.” He winks, which makes the Nordic turn crimson in a blush. “He even gave you a flower! He must really like you. What does this one mean?” Sweden takes a breath and mentally prepares himself for the headache to come. Speaking like a normal person is hard.  
    “It means ‘overcoming hardships’, Captain.” England raises a brow.  
    “”Captain’? Are you being polite to me in hopes I will reconsider your punishment gift? Well, it’s not going to work. I have already received said gift, and you’re getting it the moment we get back to my room. Maybe it will teach you not to disobey your captain, Cabin Boy. Or do you enjoy getting punished?” He reaches out and unclasps Sweden’s cloak with a scoff. He pulls the fabric close, shaking his head. “I didn’t say anything last night because you needed to be distracted, but today you are living by my rules again. No one gets an overcoat but me. Understood? There’s no need for you to answer that question, it better be understood. Now, follow me. Your punishment awaits.” He turns with a flourish, and Sweden follows after him silently. He doesn’t want to anger England before the gift. That would be a bad idea, he’s sure. But that doesn’t mean the urge to talk back isn’t there. He bites his tongue as a precaution.  
    England unlocks the door to his room, and pushes it open. Sweden walks into the room after him, and inquisitively watches him walk over to the dresser. His steps are slow but sure, and they’re heavier than usual. He folds the cloak properly, then tucks it into the first drawer. Sweden makes a mental note of its location, just in case. He has a feeling he might need it for warmth and protection again. The ship can get surprisingly windy. Or maybe England does that on purpose, just to torture him. He wouldn’t put it past the pirate captain. At least he’s allowed to have it at night. He eyes a swatch of cloth as England picks it up tenderly. It’s smaller than he would have expected, but he just knows its his punishment gift. “Close your eyes.” Sweden does as he is told without protest, but he doesn’t like it. Not being able to see gives the Brit entirely too much power over him. He feels something wrap around his neck, and England’s fingers brush against his throat as he clasps the thing. Whatever it is, it’s leather. The smell of it is overbearing. Thankfully his nose gets used to it rather quickly, and it dissipates into a background scent. “There. Okay, open them.” The warmth he hadn’t noticed was behind him fades away, and he opens his eyes slowly. When had he been moved in front of the mirror? He dismisses the thought, and glances down. A gasp escapes him without his permission, and England chuckles behind him.  
“How much did this cost?” He brings a hand up to toy with the collar and tag around his neck. The black leather is smooth, and he runs his fingers over it greedily. He misses such beautiful work. Being a Viking was so much simpler. Though he isn’t the biggest fan of what the round tag has him labeled as, the lettering is done so perfectly in line, he can’t help but marvel at it.  
    “That doesn’t matter, ‘Captain’s Cabin Boy’,” England reads from the tag, then flicks it gently. The cold metal hits Sweden in the throat, but it’s not heavy enough to do any damage. “What matters is that you are not allowed to take this off. Only I am allowed to remove it, or put it on. You do not leave this room without it around your neck. As I said last night, I own you. This shows that to everyone. Isn’t that fun?” He chuckles, and tugs on the collar. Sweden growls softly, but allows himself to be pulled back. The glasses are plucked from his face, and he squints. Only the green of the captain’s eyes shows through the sudden haze. “I do not have anything for you to do right now, so these are mine. Enjoy navigating without them. Oh, and also. You do not growl at me. Would you like to sleep with the others tonight? I can make that happen. And to make it extra special, I will be keeping your glasses if I do make you leave.”  
    “M’ apologies, Captain,” he grumbles out, sending a glare at what he believes is England, but he’s not sure since he backed away. He hears amused laughter from his left, and jerks his head in that direction. "When did du move?"  
    “You really are very blind. It’s intriguing. I am almost tempted to use it to my advantage. Almost. Perhaps I will, one day. But that day is not today. You have entertained me enough to reconsider sending you to sleep with the rest of the crew. You may stay in here tonight. However, your day is nowhere near over.” There’s a tug on the collar, and he stumbles forward. England’s venomous voice sounds right by his ear. Sweden shudders at the feeling of his breath, and blushes ever so slightly. He’s definitely not used to being bossed around by someone so serious. “You are on thin ice today. If you are disrespectful to me again, I will not refrain from sending you away for the night. Understood?” He pulls away, releasing the collar. The tag jingles, and thumps against the Nordic’s throat uncomfortably.  
    “Ja. Understood, Captain.” He makes sure to send a glare toward him to show his distaste in the situation. He receives a bark of laughter in response.  
    “You are still glaring at nothing. Though that is not what I find so amusing. You speak politely, but then you do things like this. Could it be you are afraid of me?” He steps close enough for Sweden to be able to make out a smirk.  
    “Afraid of du? Why would Jag be afraid of du?” He shakes his head softly. “Jag need to stay on this ship is all.” He sighs and closes his eyes. “Jag am not wanted at home.” His stomach knots up. He hadn’t been willing to admit it before, but it is true. No one at home wants him there. Not even Denmark, despite his promise. They’re probably happy he’s disappeared. He can’t help but let his mind wonder, and an image flashes across his vision. He knows it’s only his imagination, but it still hurts. Something catches in his throat, and he forces himself to open his eyes. His hallucinatory family, brought together in a plan to destroy him, fades away. He is suddenly aware of a body supporting his. He jerks away from England, and runs. He doesn’t get far, though, because his glasses are not on his face, and doorknobs are impossible to find without them. He tries desperately to grab it, but before he can, his feet are whisked out from under him. He recognizes the binding feeling, and sighs. England lassoed him again. He flinches when his hair is touched, and he brings his hand up to swipe at him. His wrist is grabbed, and then his forearms are being bound together behind him.  
    “Calm down big guy. You might hurt one of us if you don’t.” Sweden growls threateningly, but he is only bound tighter in response. “You are not a feral animal. Stop acting like one. And you really have to stop running away when your emotions hit. It is rather concerning.”  
    “Get away from me. Release me!” Sweden struggles, but he can’t get free. England clicks his tongue.  
    “You are just going to hurt yourself like that. Relax. Speak. Tell me what’s wrong.” The Scandinavian whimpers ever so slightly, and looks up at England. He presses his hand to his cheek unsurely. Sweden closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, practically melting into his touch. He needs to feel cared for right now, even if it’s not the type of care he’s craving.  
    “It is n’thing,” he grumbles out. The pirate captain gives him a pointed look, and he scrunches up his nose. “F’ne.” He takes a breath, and prepares himself for a large headache. “Jag imagined m’ family preparing to take revenge on me. For hurting him. But Jag did not! Jag would never… not him… not someone Jag love.” He shakes his head, forcing the hand off of his cheek with the movement. “It is stupid. It was only m’ imagination.”  
    “Imagination or not, that still sounds horrible. It’s not stupid at all. I don’t blame you for acting like a feral animal now. If my family ever hated me…” He shakes his head, which is only heard by the blind country in front of him, not seen. “You must need to calm down. I will go get you some tea. Well, I will get us some tea. Or, more accurately, have it brought to us.” He stands, and barks an order out the door. A few minutes later, Sweden hears a quiet clatter from the table, and jumps when the rope around his arms is tugged on. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He rubs at his skin once he is free, and unties his feet begrudgingly. He lets himself be pulled to a chair, and leans back into it with a grunt. His glasses are placed on his face, and he blinks in surprise. England smiles at him, and he blushes. He can’t help but let his eyes wander, as the captain has unbuttoned his shirt a bit. He takes the tea offered to him, and promptly buries his face in the cup, hoping his host didn’t notice his embarrassment or his small peek. Thankfully, he seems to be preoccupied with putting sugar in his drink. Maybe he can get over Finland after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really loved writing sweet France, should I write something with him? Any rarepair suggestions would be appreciated, but I also might consider the more common ones.


End file.
